Serenity 2560
by Batguy
Summary: 50 years after Serenity Valley, Derrial Reynolds is stranded during the second war for Independence, on Whitefall. As the Alliance close in, ready to raze the Browncoat forces, he and a few survivors reflect on their origins and their part in the war...


_**SERENITY**_

_**2560**_

_**CHAPTER ONE: Symmetry and Slaughters**_

"It's been 50 years."

Sergeant Derrial Malcolm Reynolds was crouched behind a rock, deep on the wreckage-strewn wastes of Whitefall. He glanced around at his platoon. Hoban Tam was hunched up beside him, vomiting violently into the ground, clutching the last of the field rations to his chest. Privates Bail and Mallory were aiming some desperate return fire as the Alliance forces closed in on the surviving men:

"What was that, sir?" Gina Marco, the last of the surviving platoon, ducked and scurried across to him, "What'd ya say?"

"It's been 50 years to the day."

"Since what?"

"Since _Serenity._"

"What?"

"The bloodiest battle of the last war. My father fought in it. It lost the Browncoats the war. And the parallels… it's terrible…"

"We ain't gonna lose, sir. Reinforcements'll come…" replied Gina.

"That's what they said in Serenity…" And Derrial looked up darkly into her wide, sky-blue eyes, "And they were wrong then…"

Turret gunfire cracked through the black night. Gina buckled, bullets tearing into her chest and through her… blood spraying across the dank, rocky hillside.

"Corporal!" Private Mallory leapt up and ran, then staggered, through the mud towards her.

"Get down, kid!" yelled Derrial, rising slowly… _too_ slowly. Alexander Mallory's head erupted into a bloody pulp as enemy fire screamed out, "Let that be a lesson to you all! Stay the hell down and wait 'em out!"

Private Tam looked even paler than usual. He seemed to be struggling not to vomit again.

"Oh god…" he mumbled, "We're all gonna…"

"_Shut the hell up, private!" _Derrial spat out his commands, venom in his voice, "Don't you dare say we're all gonna die. This isn't Serenity Valley… high command ain't gonna leave us to rot out in this gorram wasteland. Now, you stay calm an' everything's gonna be nice an' shiny. Got it, soldier?"

"G-got it, sir…" spluttered Hoban, and he threw up again.

"Now, you hurl up everythin' ya need to… we got plenty o' supplies so you can stock up on food whenever yer ready." He ruffled the younger man's hair encouragingly. Derrial had been like an elder brother to Hoban since the boy's childhood, since both their parents had inhabited the ship_ Serenity_- Captain Malcolm Reynolds and his wife Inara had long known Simon Tam and Kaylee Frye by the time of Derrial's birth.

The rock that they leaned on exploded, and Sergeant Reynolds threw himself aside, dragging the private with him:

"C'mon, kid, they gotta skiff! We gotta move, people… everythin's gone ruttin' apocalyptic over here!"

The three survivors ran helter-skelter down the hillside, and stumbled, plunging to slam down into a valley. Gunfire flickered around them. Hoban gasped, and Bail fell with blood streaming from his leg.

"Purple-bellied sons o' doxies!" came an angry yell, and three grenades bounced towards them.

"Purple…?" Derrial dived away, followed by Bail, who was pulling Hoban this time, "Hey!" He swore loudly in badly-pronounced mandarin, "We ain't purple! We're Goddam Independents over here!"

"Lyin' sons o'…" came back the cry, "There ain't no more browncoats left on this gorram moon!"

"Just stop with the ruttin' shootin' and take a look! Would that challenge you numbskulls awful?" roared Private Bail.

"That it wouldn't." Reynolds spun around. About eighteen men, pale and bloody but armed to the teeth, surrounded them. Derrial recognised their leader as Captain Anderson, of the 75th. Where one his left eye had been was now a bleeding, empty socket, and stubble covered his scarred face. Silently, the sergeant cursed- Anderson was a fool; and a stubborn ruttin' fool at that.

"Captain," Reynolds inclined his head swiftly, "Is the gorram air support on its way? Those skiffs have gotta be taken out."

"I dunno," Anderson shrugged.

"What do you…?"

"High command sent us onto this rutting moon to die… don't ya see it, boy? Those _jung chi duh go-se dway _don't give a gorram if we live or die…"

"_Bizui!"_ Derrial slowly strode towards Captain Anderson, shaking with rage, "You men agree with this _ching-wah TSAO du liou mahng_?"

"What choice do we got?" asked one slowly, "He's our commander. We do whatever he says, like it or not."

"You gonna die and betray this whole revolution just for this stupid son of a doxy?"

The men muttered nervously amongst themselves.

"Tam? Bail? You with me?" snapped Derrial.

Hoban opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Anderson had a handgun aimed at the sergeant.

"Now, cap, this ain't a shootin' matter, 'less you make it one," Derrial said calmly, "You don't lay that toy down _right now_, and there _will_ be some serious trouble."

"You're already in gorram trouble, Reynolds. You're inciting mutiny."

"No. He's inciting _victory_."

The men stared at Hoban, who had his rifle pressed into the side of Anderson's head.

"Lay down the gun, sir." Reynolds did not waver in the slightest.

"Men, kill the traitors," snarled Anderson.

"No!" Bail fired his gun with a yell and the captain's temple erupted! Anderson fell to the ground, dead…

"Private…" Derrial stared at him, "Thank you."

"You killed a captain! You'll be executed for sure, idiots! All of you!" shouted one of Anderson's men.

"Let's not worry about that for now, let's just…" began Reynolds, and then there was an explosion that hurled the troops apart, and the sergeant knew no more…


End file.
